


Dog Days

by fairymascot



Category: Digimon
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairymascot/pseuds/fairymascot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Hikari and Miyako spend summer vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

Miyako likes people-watching. Even more than she likes watching them, though, she likes providing commentary. You learn this fairly quickly, when you come over to her house for the first time, and on the way there from school she stops to pull on your arm not once, not twice, but three times to point at someone across the street and cry out, "look!". You're a bit startled, at first, blinking in the vague direction of her pointed finger before your gaze settles on its intended target, and Miyako says "Well, what do you think? Isn't that guy _super_ cool?"

"Um," you say, "I guess so." That is evidently not the desired reaction, as Miyako stomps her foot and huffs, "Come on, Hikari-chan, don't be such a stick in the mud! Look at those striking, totally manly shoulders! That hair! He's a total hottie, come on, admit it!"

She tugs harder on your arm all the while in her enthusiasm, and you let out a tiny, embarrassed giggle before relenting with a "Yes, okay, he is". Miyako flashes a victorious grin and lets go, seeming happy enough with your response for the next five minutes, until the next person catches her eye.

By the second time, you're prepared. It doesn't take you long to get used to it. You never get as worked up about it as she does, though. You don't have the heart to tell her that you can't.

\--

At the height of summer, you all go to the beach. As Daisuke and Chibimon lose to Takeru and Patamon at volleyball and Ken tries to teach Iori how to swim with their partners watching safely from the shore, you and Miyako have settled atop your towels along with your two Digimon, each with a popsicle in hand.

"Ahh," Miyako exhales, stretching one arm over her head, "I don't want this to end. Why can't summer vacation go on forever?"

You offer her a small, sympathetic smile. "You're not looking forward to it? You'll be starting middle school, after all."

"Ah, whatever! School is school! I'm going to be cooped up in a gray, stuffy classroom no matter what grade I am!" She licks at the top of her popsicle between words. "Not to mention, I feel like an old hag." 

That gets a laugh out of you. "An old hag, Miyako-san? Really?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, I'm practically a grown-up now, and even so, I've never even been kissed! I need a boyfriend. At this rate, I'll die all alone!"

Your shoulders hitch up as you let out another laugh -- quieter, now, barely above a breath, in a way you know doesn't sound nearly as genuine. "You won't," you say, and it's as much an attempt at reassurance as it is a cementing of fact: "I'll be here."

Miyako looks at you, eyes widening a fraction of an inch under the rim of her oversized summer hat, and smiles. "Thanks, Hikari-chan. Me, too."

She then goes back to her popsicle, gazing out at the waves, and at Iori flailing helplessly between them while Ken apologetically offers him back his floaties. You look at her as she looks on. Neither of you say anything more; the sun lavishes you with its too-hot rays, you feel your bangs mat against your forehead.

Tailmon vibrates a little beneath your hand, where you've been idly scratching the back of her neck for the last few minutes, and you watch as Miyako determinedly struggles to catch every drop of her melting popsicle with her tongue before it can escape and slip down her neck. In the race between the sun's blazing rays and Miyako's tongue to see which can consume more of the icy treat, the sun has the obvious lead, and when Miyako's had just about enough of falling behind, she snaps her jaws around the popsicle, biting about a third of it off. Blinking rapidly at the suddenness of the motion, you finally breathe out.

At which point Miyako clamps her hand over her still-full mouth and whimpers through it, "Ugh, it's _cold_!". You giggle, the tension in your chest alleviated.

"Yeah, laugh at my pain. I don't see you doing much better, with half of your hand covered in ice cream!" You look down, and only now realize your hand has been feeling increasingly sticky for the last five or so minutes. "Oh, that's true," you say. "I should learn how to charge ahead like you, Miyako-san."

So you bite.

Miyako watches with surprise that soon turns to an odd mixture of smugness and pride as your face twists up, a vain attempt to accommodate the sharp, icy pain reverberating through your teeth. "Wow, impressive! Even though you knew what you had coming. You've got guts, Hikari-chan!"

Your face lights up around the quickly-dissolving ache, and Miyako pulls you against her side, pointing to man in his mid-forties walking across the shoreline in a full-body neon-yellow swimsuit. "Hey, check this guy out! He looks like a walking banana."

"Miyako-san, that's terrible!", you exclaim, thoroughly scandalized, but laugh into her sun-warmed shoulder all the same. 

\--

"This is as far as you go, Ultra Metal Shinobi Woman! Let the moon be our guide as our blades dance together... _the dance of death_!"

"Ooh, I love this part!", Miyako announces with a bright-eyed grin, straightening up in her seat on the sofa. "I know," comes your amused reply. This is Miyako's favorite movie from Miyako's favorite movie series, the ninth of seventeen: "Hyper Robot Samurai Man X -- the Curse of the Sunken Ninja Battleship". The two of you have watched every single movie in the series at least twice this summer, but you're fairly sure the watch-count on this one has totaled to a minimum of six. Probably more. It consists of over-the-top drama, highly attractive, weapon-bearing, scantily-clad people of both genders, a lot of sword fights in the moonlight, and an explosion every four minutes or so. You can see why she likes it so much.

The two of you watch -- with Miyako quite literally on the edge of her seat -- as Robot Samurai Man and Metal Shinobi Woman's swords clang together, cherryblossom petals drifting around them as if highlighting their "beautiful, eternal romantic-tension-fraught rivalry, keeping them forever bound to each other without being able to realize their love, doesn't it just make you want to cry, Hikari-chan?!", the way Miyako once put it. It doesn't really make you want to cry, but it's a pretty good scene. 

You chew on a cookie from the bowl sitting between you both, watching Miyako's expression shift at a stunning rate from the corner of your eye as the battle unfolds, like she couldn't recite each and every line in the film from start to finish, and then from finish to start, if you woke her up in the dead of the night and told her to. Finally, with Shinobi Woman defeated in battle but not yet down for the count, she turns her back on the viewer and mutters ominously that _it isn't over yet_ , before disappearing into the night. Miyako lets out the breath she's apparently been holding, and when she speaks, this time it's your turn to have your breath catch in your chest.

"Man, Ultra Metal Shinobi Woman is _so_ hot."

It's a completely casual remark that should rightly hold no weight, and yet you struggle to swallow around the thickness in your throat. You've heard her make that sort of comments dozens of times before-- all about men. You're aware, of course, that this almost certainly means nothing; it isn't unusual for people to comment on the attractiveness of others of the same gender in a strictly objective manner. And Ultra Metal Shinobi Woman _is_ undoubtedly pretty. 

And yet you fail to suppress your stammer. "Y-you think so?"

Miyako turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. "Well, _yeah_! I mean, between those hips and that chest, Hyper Robot Samurai Man X is lucky to have her. She's totally a babe."

You take the last bite of your cookie as an excuse to break off the eye-contact, and reach for another one while murmuring something in agreement. Miyako, used to your lack of enthusiasm when those matters are concerned, doesn't seem to think much of it-- what she _does_ seem to think much of is when she, too, reaches into the bowl and finds there's nothing left.

"Hikari-chan, that's the last cookie!" she screeches with all the drama of one of Robot Samurai Man's pre-battle speeches. You blink. "Oh, it is? Did you want it?"

At her enthusiastic nodding, you smile, and then shove the whole thing into your mouth. Her wide-eyed horror only lasts a moment before turning into indignant rage. "Hikari-chan, how could you?! The mighty Mega Steel Ninja Miyako-sama won't let you get away with such acts of inhumane cruelty!"

Before you can open your mouth to respond, she's knocked you back on the sofa, the empty bowl dropping to the ground with a dull _thud_ in the process, and then her hands are at your side, bestowing upon you the very harshest brand of punishment she's capable of: tickling. You flail and shriek, but she's as immune to your desperation as you were to her cookie-lust, and the weak, helpless pounding of your fists against her chest is no more effective at getting her to stop. "I-- I'm sorry," you manage to force out between half-hysterical giggles, "I promise I'll let you have the last one next time--!"

Luckily, that does the trick. The next moment, she stops, and you heave out a quivering breath of relief. "Fine," Miyako says, voice coming out lower than usual, but maybe it's just you-- "you'd better remember it."

The room is very quiet, then, save for the faint battle cries coming from the TV, which sounds to you like it might as well be a thousand miles away right now. Miyako hovers over you on the sofa, hands planted at either side of you, the curtain of her hair brushing your cheeks. The glow from the television contours her face in the dimly-lit room, and you can see her eyelids flutter as her gaze skims across your face. Your heart is racing for reasons you know go far beyond the tickling, and you can only pray the warmth in your cheeks isn't as visible as it feels in the dark. 

Your lips part, and you think you should say something, but the only word that comes to your mind is "um". Then Miyako's eyes dart off towards the screen, and she calls out "Oh, this is the _best_ part!" before hopping off of you like she's featherlight and reassuming her position on the sofa.

Very slowly, you sit up. Somehow, with Miyako's weight gone from on top of you, you feel your face burn up all the more. It's a good thing she's already too engrossed in the movie to notice.

\--

When the two of you meet up at one of your houses, it's usually yours. Miyako's house is always loud, always full of life, and it's near-impossible to spend time there without at least one sibling popping in to say hi, or "Miyako, I need to use the computer, how long is this going to take", or "Miyako, mom says she wants your help down at the store". Miyako hates it. You kind of like it, though. Something about it feels very much the way a home _should_ , and you like seeing Miyako and her siblings bicker. She's always complaining to you about what a pain they are, and somehow that keeps you thinking that they must have a good sibling relationship. Though they all care for each other, they all run their own independent lives. That's just one more thing you admire about Miyako.

( _"You can't go on depending on your big brother forever!"_ )

Taichi has his friends from soccer over today, so Miyako's agreed to have you over. She could stand to be happier about it, though -- today is just one of these days where she and her family just don't get along, as it seems.

"I _told_ you, stop bugging me when I'm having friends over!", she yells into the hallway, punctuating it with a slam of her bedroom door. You stand in the center of the room, biting your thumb as you watch her flop down on the bed with a huff. You sit down at the edge, beside her.

"Ugh, I'm telling you, siblings are a pain. When I get married it's just going to be me, my husband and Hawkmon. That's it!"

You look down at her, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. "Miyako-san, you're always thinking about the future, aren't you? Like finding a boyfriend, and getting married..."

The question catches her by surprise, and she frowns, lower lip sticking out as her brow furrows. "Huh, I guess so. Don't get me wrong, living in the moment is the most important thing! But it's nice to daydream sometimes, too, you know?"

You hum in half-hearted agreement. "But," you begin, "you're a go-getter, aren't you? They're not just idle fantasies. When you want something, you make sure you get it." There's a brief pause. "That's something I envy about you."

"Well-- hey!" She bolts upright, suddenly dead-serious, and grabs both your hands between her own. "It can be the same way for you too, Hikari-chan. There's no reason why not! As long as you want something badly enough, and are determined to go for it no matter the cost, you'll definitely get it someday!"

Her eyes bore into yours with a sort of intensity that makes your chest tie in knots. Her hands are warms around your own. You want to be reassured, you want to thank her and leave it at that, but as soon as you open your mouth you find that you're no longer able to control the direction of the conversation, much like you're unable to stop the words falling from your lips. "But if it could go wrong? What if I could end up regretting it?"

Something scarily like realization flashes across Miyako's face, and for a moment your chest feels like it's been filled with ice, and the only thought that races through your mind is _she knows, she knows, she knows_ , over and over again. But then she squeezes your hands tighter and her voice only climbs up in volume when she speaks-- "Well, if you don't try at all, you'll _definitely_ regret it, for your whole life! And that's way worse, right?"

You're completely taken aback by the reaction, and can do little more than stare dumbly at her, at first. But of course, you were just being paranoid, weren't you? She didn't realize. No, of course she didn't.

"... Yeah," you say, finally. "You're right. Thank you."

That response doesn't seem to please her. She breathes out heavily, determination seeping from her expression to make room for something softer.  
"You know, if there's anything bothering you, you can always talk to me. I want to help as much as I can."

It's a side of Miyako the others don't often get to see. Daisuke might tease her, saying things like _that's because Hikari-chan is kind, unlike you!_ , but you know better than anyone that beneath the loudness, the bluntness, and the seemingly-unvanquishable energy, Miyako is gentle, loving, soft. Both sides play equal part in what makes Miyako herself, and so you're grateful for them both -- the Miyako that'd slap you across the face when you can't hear reason and promise to yell louder than the darkness, and the Miyako who'd take hold of your hand on a rickety bridge and not let go even after you've crossed it -- but you treasure the latter even more, because it feels special. Like it's a part of her just for you.

So when you smile at her, it's genuine, not strained, and when you say "I know", there's a warmth in your voice that wasn't there before. There's a beat as she looks at you, as if expecting something more, until at last she gives up, letting go of your hands and slumping back in defeat.

"Ah, man, you're the same old Hikari-chan as ever. I can't tell what you're thinking at all! Even though you promised." She straightens back up, pointing an accusing forefinger at you. "'I'll try to be more direct from now on, Miyako-san!', remember?"

"Yeah." You give a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm sorry."

Still, you find yourself feeling better for it.

\--

"Only three days left, huh..."

Head tilted back, Miyako sighs up into the evening sky. The moon glows faintly above you, without a single cloud to obscure it. With the sun down, the air has cooled from unbearably hot to pleasantly warm, and there is a distinctively comfortable feeling between you as you make your way back home from Ken's. His house is large and his parents are always more than happy to have his friends over; a lot of your group get-togethers have taken place there.

It's a little scary to think of that routine changing.

Smiling, you ask, "Is your uniform cute?"

"Oh, it totally is! And not to honk my own horn, but I look adorable in it. You should see it." Miyako pauses momentarily, and then snaps her fingers. "I know! If you're not busy, why don't I come over the day before school and show you?"

"I'd like that."

She flashes you one of her trademark grins. "It's a date, then!"

\--

"Inoue Miyako, first-year middle-school student, ready for action!" Miyako whirls out of the bathroom, practically buzzing with excitement, the skirt of her uniform fluttering around her as her hair whips against her face. Once the motion comes to an end, she strikes a pose, legs forming an upside-down V on the floor and hands at her hips. Her confidence is justified, there's no doubting that-- with the uniform on, she looks just that much more _mature_ , to the point where it's hard to believe there's only a mere year between the two of you. 

It's quite striking; your expression brightens just by looking at her. Sat on her bed, you clap your hands together in delight. "Ah, it suits you!"

"Right? Right? It's totally cute, right?" She beams, and then spins around in her place again, holding up the hem of her skirt. You hum in agreement through a giggle. "Miyako-san, you look a lot more enthusiastic about starting middle school than before."

"Heh, yeah." She scratches the back of her neck with a grin, only the slightest hint of self-consciousness peeking through. "I know I've spent all this time whining and moping, but that's the natural sort of reaction to have when school's looming in the distance! And besides, I know it's no good if I can't start the year on the right foot. I gotta have high spirits, or it'll tarnish my entire middle school experience!" She tops the declaration off with a spirited punch at the air.

"I'm glad," you say, and mean it. "I'm sure you'll have a good time in middle school, Miyako-san. And make plenty of new friends, too." But your voice trails off at the end without you meaning to, and Miyako doesn't miss it. She flops down next to you on the bed, close enough that the fabric of her skirt brushes against your knee.

"Hey." She covers your hand with her own. "Even if I become the most popular girl at school and make a million new friends, I still won't forget about you guys. Okay?" 

You nod dully. The words bubble from your throat, and you make no attempt to stop them. "I had a lot of fun this summer, Miyako-san. And I know we won't be able to spend as much time together when school starts up again, but I hope that things between us won't change." Your fingers curl into your palm under Miyako's hand. You can feel that familiar tension blooming in your chest, the one that rears its head whenever you're forcefully trying to clamp down on your feelings lest they make themselves known, except this time, you _are_ trying to make them known. Your body's reaction is automatic. It's hard to break the habit.

"... Even if you get busier than before. Even if... I do something to make you upset." You bite on your lower lip. And here it is; here is you being more direct, just like you promised. It's not much by any means, but to you, it's worth the world.

"Make me upset? What are you saying! You could never do anything to upset me, Hikari-chan!" Her hand leaves yours, and instead, a finger jabs into your forehead. You're forced back a fraction of an inch with the motion, blinking hard as to avoid going cross-eyed. "Hikari-chan, you're my best friend! If you really think something as small as me going to middle school is going to change that, you're dead-wrong, got it? Dead wrong!"

"That's not..." you begin to protest, but soon give in. You're not going to pretend that hasn't been one of the primary concerns on your mind over the course of the last couple of weeks -- there's more to it than just that, of course, but that reassurance alone is enough to quell your fears. Some of them, at least. And for that, you are grateful. "Thank you, Miyako-san."

Remembering something, you straighten up, and then reach into your bag, pulling out your camera. "Let's take a picture, okay? I'd like to have one for my scrapbook."

"Sure! This way, you can commemorate the moment of seeing me in my middle school uniform before everyone else." In an instant, Miyako's hopped to her feet, and then her fingers are wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up, too. Settling beside her, you hold up the camera. "Okay?"

"Hold on." She throws her arm around your waist, sticking her hand out in a peace sign, and calls out through a grin-- "Bingo!"

The camera flashes. You lower your hand, turning it over to show her. Her hair tickles your neck as she leans in to look; her hand has remained at your waist. For a moment, you pretend it's enough. "What do you think?" 

"I think it came out great! We're both way cute."

"Yeah."

It isn't really. And you can keep trying to fool yourself into believing otherwise, but deep down, you're always going to know. And you're always going to be scared, and hesitant, and never as true to yourself as Miyako says you should be, and drowning in what-ifs that in time will turn into what-could've-beens, unless--

_"If you don't try at all, you'll _definitely_ regret it!"_

\--unless you tilt your head up and kiss her, right now.

You do.


End file.
